#April 1st: Casino Royale
This is an April Fools’ Day special. A side story, non-canon.
The edge of Roppongi, an authentic girls’ bar.
—Not this time.
Gambling’s holy land: Las Vegas, USA.
On the outskirts of the dazzling center, past the colorful neon, pyramid-shaped monuments, and spraying fountains, stands a hotel — Antiqua.
“There we are, my win. I look forward to your next visit. Fufu.”
Cards slapped down across the green felt table. Utterly unbothered by the visible frustration of her guest, the woman dealer ruling the table dragged the wagered chips toward herself with a stick.
Casino Antiqua.
A women-only luxury hotel and attached grand casino, frequented nightly by the world’s most celebrated names. Inside its glittering interior: poker tables, slot machines, roulette wheels. Women swept up in the highs and lows of the game and their wagers, and bunny girls weaving between them. Tonight, as every night, the casino carried an almost mad heat in the air — alcohol, cigarette smoke, and the fever of guests lost in dangerous games.
“Target confirmed, visual contact.”
Off in a corner of the floor, where a big deal was underway, a woman playing wallflower pressed the button on her radio-type earpiece, switching on the microphone built into her dangling earring.
Through the radio — the voice of a cold, sharp-minded woman, infiltrating the casino’s back offices.
“Confirmed on this end too. Target’s at Table 3. Game in progress: blackjack.”
“How’s the peeping-tom camera holding up?”
“I’d love to enjoy, in full high-definition, that irritating dealer’s amber eyes crumbling into tears. Miss Mikoto.”
Exactly as briefed, the wallflower — Mikoto — swept the hem of her cocktail dress and started walking. Wrapped in her one truly extravagant gown, sheer organza and jewels, because tonight’s game was the gamble of a lifetime.
“This is Tōko, starting early! Cheer me on, Sanae!”
“This is Rinko, in position. Kotone-san?”
“Okie-dokie. Don’t screw this up, sis.”
Listening to her allies chatter over the radio, Mikoto paused. Through the gaps between passing guests and bunny girls, she scanned Table 3.
The dealer’s porcelain skin and amber eyes held a perfect poker face. No expression, no hint of true intention, visible at all. But tonight, that beautiful, velvet-smooth face would run with corduroy-ridged tears — this match had to end in a decision.
The amber-eyed dealer. Her fated rival, Shandy. To defeat her.
That was the long-held wish of the legendary gambler, Mikoto Blackburn.
As planned, Tōko — already at the table — kept pushing aggressive deals, driving the table’s minimum bet higher. Once ordinary players dropped out, unable to keep pace, Kotone dove in and pushed it higher still.
Tōko and Kotone’s job was to inflate the stakes ahead of Mikoto’s own entrance.
“Current minimum bet: fifty thousand dollars. Do you have Squares ready?”
“Unfortunately, all I’m carrying is Squares.”
Antiqua used two kinds of chips. Coin-shaped Four Points covered one dollar up to fifty thousand; beyond that, rectangular plate-shaped Squares took over, starting at a hundred thousand.
Mikoto’s funds tonight: twenty million dollars. A heavy, solid-gold ten-million-dollar Square, along with several resin-plate denominations, sat tucked inside her pochette.
“Table 3’s minimum bet is now Square-only. Guests carrying only Four Points have cleared out.”
Everything was set.
The gamble of a lifetime. No scraping by with small wins — settle it in one decisive blow.
“Okay. Let’s begin.”
“Good luck, high roller. Miss Mikoto.”
Trailing the hem of her dress, she slid into the space at Table 3 — right in front of dealer Shandy — left open by a departed player who couldn’t keep up with the stakes.
“Oh my, my. Your reputation precedes you. The high roller swallowing Vegas whole, Mikoto-san.”
“Yes. I’ve been hoping for the chance to play against you myself.”
“Fufu. If you’ll wait just a moment. Let me settle this table’s current hand first.”
The stage: Table 3, blackjack. Tōko and Kotone, flanking either side, held hands of 19 and 20 respectively. At a hundred-thousand-dollar minimum bet, both had already decided to stand.
Meanwhile, dealer Shandy’s up-card showed 18. If her hole card came to 4 or higher, she’d bust past 21 and lose automatically.
“Reveal — hole card, 2. My hand comes to 20. Tōko-san loses. Kotone-san, a push.”
“Nooooo! My honeymoon savings?!”
Tōko’s hundred-thousand-dollar Square got swept away by the stick. But it was all part of the plan — covering for Tōko’s crushing loss and Kotone’s push was exactly Mikoto’s job here.
“Thank you for waiting, Mikoto-san. Current minimum bet starts at a hundred thousand dollars — do you have enough on hand?”
“No need to worry.”
She drew out her funds from the pouch. One solid-gold ten-million-dollar Square, and the rest in smaller denominations — smaller, though still a minimum of a hundred thousand each.
Catching sight of the highest denomination chip Antiqua carried — rarely seen even here — Shandy widened her amber eyes with deliberate theatricality.
“My, my. You really do favor dangerous games, don’t you.”
“Yes. Consider it the betrothal gift, meant to bring you down.”
“Fufu. If it’s a proposal, I’ll accept it with the utmost respect.”
“Ah! I nearly forgot. I haven’t prepared the engagement ring a proposal requires. I’ll need to raise the funds — straight from this casino’s own vault.”
“No need to worry yourself over that. Cheap will do just fine for my engagement ring. Why don’t you deposit every last dollar you’re carrying, right into our own vault?”
The war of words with dealer Shandy raged on. Her amber eyes curved into a bewitching, waxing-crescent arch, sadism laid bare.
Mikoto placed a five-million-dollar Square from her stack.
“Shall we start at five million, Shandy-san?”
“Fufu, sounds fun. And the rest of our guests?”
Tōko and Kotone shook their heads. The stage was set.
High roller Mikoto against amber-eyed Shandy, in direct confrontation. A crowd gathered around their table, watching what would become tonight’s most thrilling contest in all of Vegas.
Cutting through the ring of onlookers, ally Rinko — undercover in the casino as a bunny girl — came to take an order.
“May I take your order, Miss Mikoto?”
“A Shandy Gaff, please. I intend to swallow those amber eyes whole.”
“I’ll have a Million Dollar. Aiming to hook this Vegas-ravaging high roller and make my fortune.”
Five million dollars now hung on a single number: 21.
The crowd stirred. The two women’s showdown had begun.
Casino blackjack starts with placing the bet. The stake Mikoto, as player, placed would be matched and held in escrow by the vault of Shandy’s own Casino Antiqua.
Once bets were placed, cards were dealt. Two each, to player and dealer alike. But unlike Mikoto, who could keep both her cards face-down, dealer Shandy had to reveal one as her up-card.
At the start, Mikoto’s hand totaled 13.
Shandy’s up-card showed 7.
“Hit.”
“Yes.”
Mikoto chose to draw. A card slid out from the shoe and was presented to her. A 7. Total: 20.
“I’ll hit as well.”
Shandy’s slender white fingers drew a card from the shoe with practiced grace. Revealed: an 8. Total: 15.
“Hmm, no luck tonight.”
Shandy pursed her lips, putting on a show of lamenting her misfortune.
Blackjack, as everyone knows, is a casino game built around reaching 21. But the rules differ between player and dealer.
Unlike the player, who can freely choose to hit — draw another card — the dealer has no such choice. She must keep hitting until her hand totals 17 or higher. Naturally, that raises her odds of busting past 21 considerably. Which is to say, blackjack is, structurally, a game stacked against the dealer.
“Oh my. Looks like we might get to see you bust, Shandy-san.”
“Interested in my modest bust, are you?”
“I’d love to savor five million dollars’ worth of bust.”
“I see. If it’s just the chest you’re after, that much I’ll give you free of charge.”
With that, the hand Shandy had been reaching toward the shoe instead seized Mikoto’s wrist. Pulling it forcefully toward her own chest, she landed it directly on her modest bust.
“Total: 23. Bust.”
“Fweh…?! Um, wh—?”
Mikoto’s palm was full of a modest but soft warmth. She’d ended up grabbing Shandy’s chest. Naturally, having no idea what Shandy actually meant by “bust,” Mikoto dissolved into obvious flustered confusion.
“Five million dollars’ worth of lucky perv! Nice one, sis!”
“Quiet!”
Meanwhile, the crowd erupted. Kotone, hidden in the throng, let out an unmistakably mocking shout.
The rest of the onlookers reacted much the same way. More than the fate of five million dollars, a beautiful gambler groping her rival dealer’s chest was — considerably more entertaining.
“First round goes to Mikoto-san. How was the five million dollars’ worth of bust?”
“A— ah… that was… a splendid texture, I’ll admit?”
“Thank you very much. I did polish it up especially, hoping you’d get to touch it.”
Mikoto recalled the rumors surrounding Casino Antiqua’s dealer, Shandy.
She wasn’t especially skilled at dealing, technically speaking. Blackjack, to begin with, hardly depends on dealer skill at all — the only real differences come down to how cleanly cards get dealt, and the dealer’s own luck.
What set Shandy apart from every other dealer was something else entirely — her mastery of off-the-table tactics. Loaded words, psychological sparring, wildly unpredictable moves, all of it designed to throw off whatever careful probability calculations a player had built up.
“Well then, round two. You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you, Mikoto-san?”
“O— of course I am!”
Refusing to lose to Shandy’s off-the-table tactics, Mikoto steeled her gaze and met those amber eyes, curved into their waxing-crescent arch.
“Tonight, I came here to melt that adorable, mischievous smile of yours completely.”
“My, that sounds like fun. Then I’ll need to wager something equally special.”
“Indeed. Show me something worthy of the stakes, please.”
Luck was on her side right now. This was the moment to strike, while fortune’s favor had turned against Shandy.
Mikoto went all in on the big deal. Every Square she held, placed on the green felt table.
“Combined with the last win, that’s twenty-five million dollars. Now then — what will you wager?”
“Fufu. My lips alone… won’t quite cover that, will they? In that case, let’s do this.”
With that, seemingly on a whim, Shandy began undressing. She’d gotten as far as her black vest, fingers moving to the buttons of her white shirt, when Mikoto raised her voice.
“Wh— what exactly are you doing?!”
“Well, it’s such a large sum. There’s really only one way to match it fairly, isn’t there?”
Shandy shed her shirt, exposing a camisole. Not stopping there, she pulled the belt from her white slacks next, baring her underwear.
With every piece removed, the surrounding crowd of onlookers cheered louder.
“W— wait a moment…! Stop the impromptu striptease! Everyone’s watching!”
“Isn’t it fine, though? You’ve already half-realized it yourself, haven’t you, Mikoto-san? This is all just a dream Mikoto-san is having, watching from her seat at Antiqua’s counter anyway. So it hardly matters.”
“E— even if it’s my own dream! Please, value yourself a little more!”
“That’s exactly why I’m undressing. Because I want to give you everything I have. Or — perhaps making me do something like this is your own hidden desire, Mikoto-san?”
Laughing “fufu,” she reached for her camisole. Mikoto shut her eyes on reflex, and that was when Rinko’s voice came.
“Here’s your ord—”
Cutting herself off mid-sentence, Rinko fell speechless. Glancing once at Shandy, she darted instantly behind Mikoto, covering her eyes from behind, peek-a-boo style.
“R— Rinko-san, what—?!”
“You mustn’t look! It’s bad for you! I’ll protect you!”
“I can’t read the cards if I can’t see anything!”
“I’ll whisper it all in your ear!”
Even opening her eyes, Rinko’s hands blocked everything from view. Shandy, presumably now down to her underwear, along with the Squares and cards on the table — all of it, plunged into total darkness.
Amid the crowd’s roar over the sudden striptease, Shandy’s voice came through, rolling like bells.
“Mikoto-san? I’m not wearing anything right now.”
“Please stop narrating!”
“I’ve placed the underwear I was wearing on the table, as my wager. What color do you suppose it is?”
“I have no obligation to answer that!”
“Fufu. Your face has gone bright red, Mikoto-san. Such a shame you can’t see, though — I did polish myself up so carefully for this.”
“Ngh, ah…!”
At this rate, she’d be swept entirely into Shandy’s pace. As if sensing exactly that, Sanae’s voice came through the earpiece.
“Stay calm, Miss Mikoto. Your objective is to defeat her. Not to savor her nakedness, as I recall.”
“I— I know that! I’m calm…!”
“Good, please do. Even if she’s baring every inch of her flawless porcelain skin, none of that concerns you. Besides, compared to my own wife, she falls considerably short in feminine appeal — a meager frame, ribs showing like some starving orphan, and her lower half hardly developed—”
“Stop narrating, you too! Sanae-san, you’re supposed to be on my side!”
“Tehe.”
Uncharacteristically playful, Sanae cut the transmission.
Right after, a soft “fufu” of laughter.
“Was your chat with Sanae-san enjoyable, Mikoto-san?”
“How could you possibly know—”
A moment’s thought, and Mikoto understood. Confirming it, Rinko breathed a warm breath against her ear.
“…Sorry, okay? I want to see it. Not the cool, composed woman — the shy little girl underneath, blushing and flustered.”
“Wh—?!”
“Finally understand, do you? Your own hidden desire, Mikoto-san — wanting to be humiliated by beautiful women.”
“Th— that’s not true! I’m—”
A breath against her ear.
“…What’s not true? Go on, tell me.”
A fingertip pressed against her lips.
“Yes, say it clearly, with these lips. Won’t you, Mikoto-san?”
“I— I’m—”
＊
“…Gasp! A dream?!”
The edge of Roppongi. The all-night girls’ bar Antiqua.
Just as Shandy had pointed out within the dream itself, waking up like this was about as bad as it gets.
“Good morning, Mikoto-san. You were having quite the nightmare, weren’t you? Calling out my name, no less.”
“Y— yes… You were causing quite the scene, Shandy-san. In the dream, I mean…”
“Then I’ll be needing an appearance fee. So, how was I, in this dream of yours?”
Just recalling it was exhausting. Mortifying.
Mikoto muttered, half-spitting the words out.
“You were a casino dealer. Facing off against me in a game of blackjack, at Hotel Antiqua.”
“Oh, how lovely. I do have a certain photogenic quality — I’d probably suit a glittering casino quite well.”
“You’re really saying that about yourself…”
Downing the chaser Shandy offered, Mikoto looked up at her face.
Those amber eyes, beautiful enough to pull you in entirely.
There was no doubt — she’d fallen for these eyes, fallen in love with them.
And this love, Mikoto thought, surely wasn’t a mistake.
“…The Shandy-san in my dream was lovely too, but nothing beats seeing you in person.”
“Yes, quite right, isn’t it.”
Watching Shandy nod along, satisfied, Mikoto found herself laughing despite everything. The face she wore sparring in their games, the face she wore over idle, relaxed conversation — both were Shandy, just the same.
Which meant Mikoto wanted to draw out even more of her. Not just the usual Shandy, but the rare expressions — the ones reserved only for her.
“By the way, what did the dealer’s outfit look like? Tell me, for reference, ahead of the next Cosplay Day.”
“A simple white shirt and black vest, over pants. Though partway through, you took it all off.”
“Eh? Took it off…?”
“Genuinely strange dream, honestly. You stripped off everything you had on, insisting your own body was the only thing that could match my bet, Shandy-san.”
Shandy went still, head bowed. Straining to see in the dim light, Mikoto caught the faintest waver in those amber eyes.
“Fufu. Rare to see you this flustered, Shandy-san.”
“…You pervert, Mikoto-san.”